The House of Pallas
by Thalia Kendall
Summary: Emma Dobbs, no-nonsense Slytherin proprietress of a house that shelters witches. Seamus Finnigan, Gryffindor Magical Law Enforcement Officer whose good humour had waned during the war. The story of two strong wills crossing paths. Post-Hogwarts
1. Prologue

A/N: Got bitten by an insistent bunny one night whilst talking to the one for whom Emma/Seamus must always be credited. This is, therefore, completely dedicated to the always-wonderful, unimaginably talented Kimmie. Acknowledgement must also be given to the lovely and brilliant Sky, for the beta. And in hopes that, despite the obscure characters/pairings, it will still be read, here's another chaptered fic from me. Hope you enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: Plot is mine. Characters and universe belong to Rowling. Inspired by a friend.

* * *

Through the overcast clouds of the cold October night, its path weaving and slightly unsteady, came a lone, shivering figure on a bedraggled broomstick. It tumbled out of the sky to land not quite gracefully in front of a nondescript-looking building that the Birmingham locals passed by complacently and obliviously.   
  
The figure pushed back a hood to reveal a pale face, marred with a bruise on the left side, and fawn-coloured, tangled hair. She was slightly breathless when she knocked on the door of the building.   
  
A small House-Elf in a neat blue tea-towel stenciled with the word "Pallas" peered at her, and silently beckoned her in, apparently not at all surprised by her sudden appearance at the late hour, or the state she was in. The young woman followed the small creature into a sitting room far more finely appointed than the dull and unmarked exterior of the building suggested. The Elf bowed, and with a snap of its fingers, two of its fellows appeared, one bearing a tray of biscuits, the other a tea set.   
  
"Morry bring Mistress and others, sit." The first House-Elf gave the wan-faced young woman a respectful bow, and disappeared with a pop.  
  
The young woman-- just about a girl, really, gazed about her with solemn, weary eyes. The decor was somewhat formal, as though the proprietor was used to dignified, even grand surroundings, but the effect was somewhat mitigated by a few touches-- a rosy, merrily burning fire, the delicate blue-and-white teacups and pot set in front of her, the bouquet of creamy yellow chysanthemums and purple heather in a white ceramic mug, somehow more comforting than flawless roses and orchids from a hothouse would ever be, on top of an upright piano.   
  
The door to the sitting room opened, and the House Elf was not alone. Behind Morry came three women, one of whom gasped in recognition at the figure on the settee. "Susan?" the sweet-faced blonde gasped. "Is that you?"  
  
Susan's worn face finally broke into a smile. "Hannah!" Shakily getting up on her feet, she accepted a warm embrace from the blonde.  
  
"I'd never thought I'd see YOU here," Hannah murmured fiercely. "But now that you ARE here, everything will be all right, I promise. Natalie and I will take great care of you. You'll be safe."  
  
Behind Hannah, a petite Gryffindor with chocolate brown eyes nodded and gave Susan an encouraging smile, pouring several cups of tea for the newcomer with graceful hands. "Drink that," she said softly, "and I'll tell Morry to fetch a potion for that bruise."  
  
The tete-a-tete was cut short by the sound of a throat clearing. The third woman who had come into the room, her dark hair bound in a neat bun and her slim form clad in sensible black robes, surveyed Susan calmly. "Well then? Where did you come from?"  
  
"Miss Dobbs, can't we let Susan catch her breath first?" Hannah cajoled. "She must have gone through something terrible."  
  
Emma Dobbs gave the slightly older Hufflepuff a wry smile. "Something which I've seen a great deal, but this is rather important. For her to be truly safe, like you promised, Hannah, we must... erase her tracks, if you get my drift." Piercing blue eyes turned towards Susan with a silent question.  
  
"Canterbury," the young woman murmured listlessly, staring down at her hands. "I... I left my husband."  
  
"One Stuart Jugson," Emma finished dryly for her. A fugitive, according to the press. Jugson was the son of a Death Eater who had certainly done his share of dark deeds during the war. Emma knew of the man and the rumours that he'd married the last surviving member of a prominent pureblood family. It hadn't been completely the choice of the bride, so the stories ran, and after he'd married her, Jugson had broken his promise to her and systematically killed her family.  
  
Susan nodded slowly. "I... put a anti-tracking charm on my broom," she murmured. "He got drunk... and started raging about the fact that he doesn't have an heir yet. And... after it was all over, I flew away. I'd heard of Pallas House, but didn't really know where it was. I must've flown over Birmingham three times to find it."  
  
"Well, you're here now," Hannah said soothingly. "And we'll take good care of you."  
  
"You and Natalie can do that," the mistress of the establishment smirked at the curly-haired Hufflepuff. "I shall just take care of the practical things and leave the warm and fuzzy love to you who do it best. You can put her in room 3C." The brunette nodded at her two subordinates, who were already sitting one on each side of Susan, formerly Bones, as though they were sisters, and quietly left the room.   
  
Moving to her office, Emma Dobbs unlocked the door and emptied Susan's testimony into an intricately carved jade pensieve by her desk. Pulling out a book from the massive bookshelf occupying one wall, she flipped through the pages until she found one on Stuart Jugson.  
  
Taking out her wand, she concentrated and performed the intricate warding spell that, by this point, came almost as naturally as a Summoning Charm. Stuart Jugson was added to the lengthening list of people barred from Pallas House and forbidden from entrance.  
  
And then, with a cool, collected air, she scribbled an anonymous tip to the Aurors' Guild that one of their fugitives was stationed in Canterbury, and as she watched her owl take flight out the window, she listened to the soft sounds of conversation and footsteps passing-- Hannah must be taking Susan to her room.  
  
It was probably the fifth person she'd taken in that week, and it was only Wednesday. Every new arrival brought with her a set of emotional baggage, personal sadness and potential trouble. To run an institution like this was nerve-wracking at times.   
  
But a Slytherin was nothing if not ambitious and determined, and in any case, Emma had her own reasons. 


	2. Chapter One

A/N: I'm so glad that my muse is back! Am fairly sure that she'd eloped to Tahiti with some hot stud and abandoned me during the past few months of hellish work/school/RL type drama. In any case, as always, credit must be given to Kimmie for the inspiration and Sky for the beta, and I must also give an enormous thank you to Kayleigh for the tips and details that she had so kindly helped me work out on Seamus' familial background. Thank you and your British self with the knowledge of regional info on the Potterverse :D   
  
Disclaimer: I've stated in the other 62 fics on this author's page that I don't own any fandoms. Hopefully the point has been made?

* * *

"This must be the house, then," a lithe blonde woman murmured, glancing at a small scroll by wandlight as she made her stealthy way towards the gates barring a dark, portentous estate from the rest of the world. "Think you can handle it?"  
  
The sandy-haired young man accompanying her shot her a dark scowl. "Just because I'm not as monumentally perfect as your previous partner was doesn't make me an incompetent lout, Caligo."  
  
"Temper, temper," Susannah Caligo drawled in a low, patrician voice. "I'd never suggested you were, but you wanted to go in and seek out the target while I dealt with the wards. It was just a question. And my previous partner is irrelevent to this discussion."  
  
He rolled his eyes at her, inciting nothing more than a smirk in his direction, and determinedly raised his wand.  
  
Several spells later, even as Caligo broke down the final ward, he crouched low, his back to the wrought-iron gate, and as Caligo cast a temporary Silencing charm that would cover any sounds he made, he slid the gate open and stalked in.  
  
The resident of the house was in the middle of watching his House Elf jumping up and down on shards of broken glass in cruel amusement when the door opened to reveal a grim, masculine face, atop an athletic body clad in the navy blue robes of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. The House-Elf squeaked and stumbled painfully to cower under the enormous ebony desk of the study as its master raised his wand, aiming it at the intruder with a curse on his lips.  
  
Outside the building, Susannah Caligo watched as the windows of the house flashed with bursts of light and sparks, several jets of fiery green in her line of vision. But the spells kept coming, so he wasn't dead. Setting her teeth and wishing him luck despite his... somewhat irritating qualities as a coworker, she repaired the wards that she had torn down earlier; their target was not to be allowed an escape.  
  
She was just about to cast the final anti-Apparation ward upon the place when a ringing cry of "STUPEFY" shook the walls of the house and then all was still. Her wand raised, the young hit witch waited expectantly.  
  
It could have been anyone who emerged victorious, really, and therefore she drew an inaudible sigh of relief as her partner walked out in the same gait that he'd walked in, a few scorch marks on his robes and a scratch on his cheek, but otherwise unscathed as he levitated the unconscious master of the estate out before him.   
  
"Another one down," he said flatly.  
  
"Good work," Susannah declared magnanimously. "You can take him back and I can finish up over here."  
  
"Leave the dirty work all to me, why don't you," he muttered, and she smirked.  
  
"I'm just better at getting some sorts of information. Now go before I ward the place again."  
  
He Disapparated, prisoner in tow, with a pop. Susannah sighed, and continued her determined way towards the house to investigate the final pieces of this puzzle.

* * *

Stuart Jugson had just been taken away by the Azkaban liaison when Susannah Caligo returned. "Well then..."  
  
"What?" her partner asked, somewhat impatiently.  
  
"His wife is missing." The blonde former Slytherin said, in a slightly mystified tone. "Susan Artemisia Jugson. Missing these past two days, and Jugson's House Elves have been in a state of almost perpetual self-inflicted punishment due to this calamity. Apparently the girl's flown the coop late one night after Jugson had chugged himself into an inebriated stupor."  
  
"And what is the information on the girl?"  
  
"Susan Jugson, aged 25, formerly Bones," Susannah said crisply. "Hufflepuff alumna, Pureblood. No living relatives."  
  
The man raised an eyebrow. "She was in my year. Lord, I think that we had Herbology together."  
  
"I know she was in your year, Finnigan... but she's nowhere to be found. The House-Elves don't know... and before you ask, yes, that's under truth potion testimony. And according to them, they were punishing themselves because their master didn't know either."  
  
"And what sort of relationship did the lately incarcerated have with his better half?" Seamus asked sardonically. "I can't say that I knew her well."  
  
"The stories have it that he coerced her to marry him... and then broke a promise to leave her family unharmed."  
  
"Charming," Seamus scowled, green eyes narrowing. "I adore two-faced sadism. Really."  
  
"As much as I would appreciate a jug of flobberworm mucus over my dress robes," Susannah drawled. "But Mister Jugson's gentlemanly behaviour isn't the most important issue right now. HE is certainly not going anywhere."  
  
"I know... but have you any ideas where his wife might be, and what she might know?"  
  
Susannah gave him an exasperated look. "I think that's the next thing we must work on."  
  
Seamus glared at her. "I meant... if the House Elves could give any indications or clues that WE might be able to piece together?"  
  
"We're still working on that," Susannah said wearily. "Truth Potions has a slight soporific effect on House Elves, you know. We'll have to wait until Bobo and Vinny come to once more."  
  
"And in the meantime tackle the mountain of paperwork."  
  
"You're starting to learn," Susannah said sarcastically. "I'm so proud of you."  
  
"Sod off." 


	3. Chapter Two

A/N: Er, yes. I've been exceedingly busy, so forgive the lack of update til now. Real life DOES come before ficcing, you know. In any case, Seamus and Emma finally meet in this chapter! Fun stuff, no? The usual acknowledgements must be given. A lot of thanks to Sky, Kayleigh and Kimmie. You all rock the casbah!  
  
Disclaimer: No amount of hour-whoring at work will bring me enough money to own HP.

* * *

Seamus Finnigan frustratedly raked a hand through his dirty blond hair and scowled at no one in particular.  
  
Damn the blasted war and the fallout afterwards, anyway.  
  
It had been seven years since the end of the war. Since Harry had won, and the Dark Lord had fallen for all time. And the war, like a lingering disease, still poisoned the air and the people that remained alive.  
  
He remembered those days when he was a boy, and his mam would forbid him from joining in the gangs with the Muggle neighbor boys. And he never quite understood why, or why she kept it a strict secret from any of his father's friends that she was a witch.  
  
Then one day there had been a hush-hush sort of dreariness over the town, and the son of Mr. McGowan, the next-door neighbor, didn't come out to cavort with his friends, and Seamus overheard his mother and father whispering that young Paddy McGowan's religion had been his doom.  
  
Hogwarts would certainly be better, he thought.   
  
The first year brought a possessed teacher, the second a Basilisk that tried to exterminate all the Muggleborns, and the third an escaped murderer of Muggles. The fourth had been the start of the killings, and the war hadn't even broken out yet.  
  
And now...  
  
He'd been Herbology partners with Megan Jones. He'd played Quidditch against Terry Boot. He'd exchanged insults in the hallways with Tracey Davis, and with the other first-years on the train, admired Lee Jordan's tarantula. Would he have done more... seen more, had he known what would happen to them?   
  
Magic didn't make any of those problems go away, really. If anything, they were worse, even more complicated here.  
  
Shutting his thoughts off with a click, he reached over his desk for the half-empty, lukewarm cup of coffee and poured in as much sugar as could possibly dissolve in the inky brown liquid.   
  
The elusive Mrs. Jugson was still nowhere to be found. No relatives, no in-laws, and from the looks of it, she had lost contact with her school friends after her marriage.  
  
And it just happened to be the case that parts of the house were inaccessible without the presence of Master or Mistress, as one of the cringing house-elves, imbibed with yet more truth potion, squeakily confessed.  
  
"Bloody wonderful," he growled to Susannah afterwards. "So... no amount of blasting will break those spells?"  
  
"I'd like to state that Murphy, of the infamous Murphy's Laws, was an ornery Irishman just like you," Susannah replied calmly. "So don't go raging at ME."  
  
There was no living with Slytherin women, he decided darkly. Snarky, wily, holier-than-thou bints who loved to make his life miserable.   
  
"Before you express any amazement on the topic, Montague put up with me as a partner because he was a Slytherin like myself and didn't have your Gryffindor allergy towards non-perky, non-peppy girls."  
  
Seamus was forced to content himself with saying a few choice words under his breath and check through previous case files to get an idea of what hidden, unholy house a woman like Mrs. Jugson might be secreted away in.

* * *

"They tend to go either into the Muggle world, in which case a visit to the Muggle police might be necessary, or brothels, or occasionally back to their families or somewhere else they might feel safe while they find a way to get back their independence," Seamus set down his papers.  
  
"Well. We'll save the Muggle world option for last, and investigate the other possibilities first," Susannah said sensibly. "Is she the type of girl to go into the world's oldest profession?"  
  
"I wouldn't bet on it," he muttered. In his memory, Susan Bones had been a sweet-faced, bright-eyed Hufflepuff girl who liked Charms and chocolate chip cookies. Had probably been the pride and joy of her family, too.  
  
"So... she's either slipped into the Muggle world, or found a place to stay. But she has no family or connections."  
  
"There's GOT to be some sort of place that she could stay in."

* * *

Susan woke up in a warm bed in a strange room, smaller and less opulent than... Stuart's. The coverlet on the bed was thick and warm, a heavy duvet with an Egyptian cotton cover that had a pattern of pale green ivy leaves on a cream-coloured background. The whole room was done in shades of green, in fact, from the mint-green muslin frills at the window to the mossy dark carpeting. On a padded wooden chair by a small escritoire, there was a set of sensible dark robes, neatly folded.   
  
Hannah had kept up a steady stream of warm, friendly chatter as they had gone from the sitting room of Pallas House to this room, two nights ago, and finally, in the weak light of the candle that she'd set on the nightstand, she had given Susan a clean flannel nightdress. Susan hadn't really gotten a chance to explore until now.  
  
For two days, she hadn't ventured out, sleeping away the weariness and chill from the broom-flight, with House-Elves silently delivering her meals and medicinal potions. A mediwitch, too, had visited. Padma Patil hadn't asked too many questions, since she was reserved by nature and moreover, had seen it all before. Last night, after an inspection, the Indian woman had given her a small smile and told her that she was well.  
  
At that moment, there was a soft knock on her door, and through the wood, she could hear Hannah's cheerful voice. "Susan? You awake?"  
  
"Yes, yes I am," Susan pulled the door open to admit the other woman. "Good morning."  
  
"Good morning," Hannah smiled at her. "I hope you had a nice night's sleep?"  
  
Susan nodded, and Hannah stepped into the room with an ingenuous smile on her face. The blonde held out a bouquet of pink flowers with a friendly grin.   
  
"Carnations," Hannah told her. "Thought you could use some decoration in here." She busied herself arranging them in one of the water-glasses sitting on a shelf. Susan perfunctorily got dressed in the robes laid out for her.  
  
"So," Hannah, finished with her posies, turned towards her former roommate, "Will you come down to breakfast?"  
  
Susan gazed about curiously as she followed Hannah down the hallway and descended the stairs. Pallas House by day seemed to be almost like a boarding house, with rows of rooms with gilt numbers and letters on the doors, properly and carefully maintained. There wasn't anything too grandiose or even very stately, though the diligent maintenance and good quality of the furnishings gave the rooms a very polished look nonetheless.   
  
"We've many women of all ages here, and even a few children," Hannah told her. "Miss Dobbs runs this place, really... everyone was surprised that she took the inheritance that she'd gotten after the war to build this place, of all things. She's the one who makes all the arrangements, but we help organise and spend time with the people who stay here."  
  
They had entered the dining room then, and Susan's eyes widened a bit to see at least two dozen other women there, seated together at a long, covered table that reminded her of a section of the Hogwarts Great Hall, though less homogenized. She smiled a bit uneasily, but a petite woman made room for her, and she sat down, a heaping plateful of eggs, toast, bacon and waffles immediately appearing in front of her.   
  
Emma Dobbs, the founder of it all, was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

The dining room was in the back of the house, and therefore, the occupants had no idea of the altercation brewing by the front door.  
  
A tall, glowering man with sandy blond hair was glaring down at a petite brunette woman, who returned his scowl full-force. "You don't seem to understand, Miss Dobbs," Seamus said in a clipped tone. "I. NEED. To see Mrs. Jugson. This is for her protection."  
  
"And YOU don't seem to understand that this isn't a good time," Emma snapped at him, blue eyes full of icy fury. "She is PROTECTED here!"  
  
"We have apprehended her husband, and his lawyers will, I assure you, do EVERYTHING in their power to free him. We need her testimony, and moreover, there are parts of his home that only he or she could access." Seamus glared at the foolish girl, his hands clenched at his sides.  
  
Emma stared at him in disbelief. "Am I not speaking in perfectly clear English? Do you REALIZE, Mr. Finnigan, that when she arrived here, she'd been riding through the rain for HOURS? Bruised and battered, and that for the past two days, she'd been confined to her room to recover? If you think that for one MOMENT, I would allow some uncouth Irish git to drag her about through interrogations and unwelcome memories of the past, to her old HOUSE no less, you're vastly and terribly mistaken."  
  
"I could have you arrested," Seamus told her, his jaw tightening in frustration.  
  
"And no one opens the doors of Pallas House without my permission, so you'd still not get anything you wanted," Emma replied coldly. "I'm not harbouring a fugitive, Mr. Finnigan. I'm merely telling you that Susan Jugson is not going to leave this place today."  
  
"Just let me speak to her!"  
  
"You don't know what it's like, Finnigan," her voice was soft and pained, and he felt an odd sort of twinge in his chest. "You don't see it." But only for a moment, before Emma straightened and raised her chin. "Good day, Mr. Finnigan."  
  
And with that, she inexorably and quickly shut the door in his face.  
  
He stared in disbelief for a moment at the oak panel, before storming down the steps. "You haven't seen the last of me, Miss Dobbs," he muttered to himself.  
  
Surely he'd find a way to wear her down and make her see reason. 


	4. Chapter Three

A/N: So kill me. I have not updated in a long time...  
  
Er actually, don't kill me. I've been hella busy and the muse had taken an unexpected vacation. Anyway, I come bearing chapter next, in which we see more of protagonists and that sort of thing.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the billion obscure characters I write. I just have them on indefinite loan.

* * *

"Jugson has no living relatives beyond second cousins," Susannah informed him. "Goblins have been directed to transfer a significant amount of funds to the office of Messrs. Barton, Merrick and Woolworth for his trial. The Wizengamot has set the date for that, tentatively, for the 15th of next month." Susannah ticked off the facts on her fingers, and gave him what he fancied to be a slightly patronizing look. "I suppose you did not meet up with success in talking to Mrs. Jugson?"  
  
Seamus thinned his lips and glared at her. "She's not letting me in."  
  
"So it's true, then," she shrugged. "Where is she?"  
  
"A shelter," Seamus muttered. "It's called the House of Pallas."  
  
"The establishment run by Emma Dobbs," Susannah recognized the name, sobering slightly. "She must have gone through some rather unpleasant things."  
  
"You know about that place?" Seamus asked, his antagonistic feelings towards his partner forgotten for the moment. "Miss Dobbs was terribly tight-lipped about it all."  
  
"Yes, I know about the place," Susannah sighed. "It's a very highly warded house that shelters witches escaping from traumatic household situations. Emma inherited a fortune after the war, and she spent it on building the place. Unplottable charms, warded entrances, security trolls... she took meticulous care to make sure that the women she took in would be safe there. I suppose it would be a tough sort of position for her to be in, though she does it well enough."  
  
"You're not supposed to sympathize with her," Seamus declared flatly, his eyes narrowed. "You KNOW how important it is that I talk to Jugson's wife."  
  
"I'm merely being objective," Susannah remarked idly. "And you should continue talking to her. Give a little bit of time and all, you know..."  
  
"I don't think Slytherins change their minds."  
  
"And I think that you're enormously prejudiced about Slytherins," his partner declared. "Emma JUST took the girl in, after all."  
  
"You refer to her by her first name."  
  
"Why not?" Susannah raised a blonde eyebrow. "She WAS my housemate, even if I didn't know her well because of the age difference. She's only twenty-two."  
  
"That's... rather young to be running an establishment like you just described."  
  
"I'd imagine so," Susannah remarked. "But it's fairly successful. Many prominent people donate funds to help it along financially, but outside of that, she runs it along with a staff that works for her. From what is said, Emma is not very interested in the idea of having excessive outside help."  
  
"Is she an unfriendly sort?" It had seemed that way, from Dobbs' stony determination to keep him out.  
  
"Not exactly. I would say more aloof than anything."  
  
"Which translates to acting borderline unfriendly around me."  
  
"Because you're a heavy-handed prat and need to have more patience."  
  
"Fine then! YOU go drag Susan Bones out of that establishment!" Seamus snarled. Susannah, instead of becoming at all offended, merely gave him a smirk.  
  
"No, I'll leave the job of hacking off Emma Dobbs to you. I think it will be an excellent learning experience."  
  
"Learning WHAT?"  
  
"Dodging hexes, if nothing else," Susannah replied complacently. "Good luck."  
  
Seamus gave a grunt and muttered something about visiting Azkaban personnel for information on the new prisoner, and scuffed out of the office.

* * *

"Mistress, Mister Finnigan from the Ministry is again here to visit you," Morry the House Elf appeared in Emma's study that evening, bowing respectfully.  
  
Emma sighed and rubbed her temples. "Let him in."  
  
The House Elf disappeared with a pop, and a few minutes later, the sound of footsteps echoed down the narrow hallway.  
  
Seamus followed the diminuitive creature up a staircase and down an austere corridor-- white, narrow windows, dark doors shut tight. There was a single still-life painting on the wall, of seashells on white sand. The House-Elf gestured a door at the end of the hallway, and nodded at Seamus.  
  
Emma opened it when he knocked.  
  
"Mr. Finnigan," she addressed him, seeming to look him in the eye despite being several inches shorter. "What brings you here again?"  
  
"I would like a conference with Susan Bones, if you please."  
  
"She is at supper with the others," Emma told him coolly. "This isn't the best time."  
  
"Then when WOULD be the best time?" Seamus crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
"When she's ready to talk about it, and in that situation, I will notify you. Good night, Mr. Finnigan," she reached out a hand to shut the door, but he was quicker and grasped the appendage, taking a step forward.  
  
If his sudden movement had surprised him, she didn't let it show. "I can't bring you to her. Not right now," she told him in an even, almost gentle tone.  
  
"Then maybe YOU can answer some questions for me."  
  
"Her husband can easily be convicted without the necessity of dragging her through it," Emma told him.  
  
"Why can't you just let me talk to her?" Seamus groaned. "Or give me some sort of answer that isn't flatly negative?"  
  
"You don't see this sort of thing enough to understand," she told him quietly. "I do, and I know what's best for them."  
  
"My partner tells me that you started this establishment when you finished school, with an inheritance," Seamus told her suddenly. "It's very admirable." Perhaps, if he showed some sort of interest in the place, she would be more receptive.  
  
"Thank you," Emma said, almost gently. "It's very important to me."  
  
"I can tell," he said dryly. A corner of her lips quirked upwards, almost a smile, and for a moment, her face was transformed from a severe one that almost reminded him of Professor McGonagall's expression back in the day-- to one that was soft, feminine, almost girlish. But the half-smile was gone almost as soon as it had come.  
  
"Maybe someday you'd know about it," she said a bit cryptically. "But... I hope not."  
  
He was just about to ask what she meant by that when a House Elf ran up to her, whispering something. Emma's eyes widened, and then she turned towards him, looking almost apologetic.  
  
"I'm sorry. I need to go," she told him. "Denny will see you out." One of the House Elves appeared behind her and bowed to him, leading him towards the door. "Have a good evening, Mr. Finnigan."  
  
Seamus was led out of the establishment no less baffled than before, and with a vague feeling that he had likely not gained any ground with the enigmatic Emma Dobbs this time around, either. 


End file.
